


it was never meant to be.

by m00blo0m



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, man what the fuck. how do these work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m00blo0m/pseuds/m00blo0m
Summary: so basically- just when philza and wilbur are in the cave and yeah and then he blows shit up yeah.
Relationships: none lol
Kudos: 10





	it was never meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [me. i fucking need this.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=me.+i+fucking+need+this.).



> please note that this isnt completely finished !! <3

Wilbur stared around at everyone, celebrating that they had ‘won.’ Smiles from his friends, everyone cheering. How, how so wrong they were. Everyone was so distracted. He could leave right here and no one would notice. Seizing the opportunity, he snuck away, looking back almost every second. A manic smile slowly came creeping up his face as he reached the tunnel he had paved into the small cave. He felt his shoes crunch into the small, grey pebbles and gravel in the path. He swiftly ran into the cavern, looking around at the dimly lit area. 

The room had lyrics on the walls. He remembered when he scratched them into the rock, it was when he had found this area. The song, however, had been made far before he ever decided to dig into this place. Ever since he placed that tnt, and that button, there was some sort of ticking in his brain. The farther he went from the button, the quieter it got, but the closer he was, the more excruciatingly loud it became. 

A couple minutes passed, then he started speaking to himself.

Of course he would, he had gone completely mad. Or had he? The fighting would never stop if L’manburg wasn’t destroyed. It would keep on going. The grueling fight would forever continue. Everyone knew that. Even Tommy. Oh, Tommy. The man who had so much hope. Wil planned on destroying Tommy’s L’manburg, crushing his sweet, little, stupid dreams. It wasn’t that he wanted Tommy to hurt, but he needed to teach him a lesson. Not everything happens the way you want it to, and he just couldn’t learn that any other way. It’s sort of funny the way it played out, he wanted to tell Tommy that, but instead it happened to Wil himself. He let out a soft, unbalanced laugh. The laugh didn’t belong there, nothing really did. 

“You know, every time I come here I’m reminded of my song- that I scribbled on the walls.” His small smile became a large, deranged grin as he spoke. “There was a special place. There WAS. Was a special place. Where men could go and emancipate. You- you know. And there was definitely that special place that existed once. It did, it did.” 

He took a seat on the chair that sat right in front of that button, the time bomb that took over his whole mind. After all this time, he’d finally be able to press it. Destroy that country that had once been something so good. 

But it was all gone now. “I- I mean- even with Tubbo in charge, I don’t think it can exist again. I don’t think it can exist again” He paused, taking a deep, slow breath, taking in the smoky air from the torches hung up on the wall and staring at the lyrics. He reached his gloved hand out, feeling the sleeve of his coat touch his wrist. He started shaking. 

“The button’s right there.” Pain and sadness, the feeling of something that had been building up for a long time were all mangled up inside his chest. He had to let this go. He just had to. “If- if i'm gonna press it ever its now- and-” His voice rose and it sounded so much like torture. This felt like torture. “The thing I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore. T-the thing I worked towards doesn’t exist anymore. It’s over.”

“What are you doing?” A slightly panicked voice filled the room.

“Phil….?” Wilbur replied back, worry filling his brain and more chaos glossing over his eyes. He looked at the little radio he had in his pocket. The noise was coming from there. He had forgotten to turn it off- and- Phil could hear all of it. Every single thing he had said just barely. What an idiot he was. What an idiot.

“What are you doing?” He spoke quickly, as if he were in a rush. Wilbur, feeling panicked, looked behind him and saw nothing. 

“Phil where are you?”

“I’m uhh- not important.” He replied.

Wilbur could hear Phil breathing heavily, as if he were running somewhere. He didn’t think- he hadn’t been in contact with his father in years- there was no way he- Wil had to think of a cover story. He couldn’t let anyone trample all over his plans. He was so close. So close to this finally being over. For a while, all he had really heard was _TICK, TICK, TICK._ If that button wasn’t pressed, and his old country gone, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Insanity would overtake him. His country wasn’t worth keeping anymore, he said that before. It was pure silence for quite a bit, just the sound of stalactites dripping to the rhythm of the ticking in his suffering brain. 

TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK.

“Uh- ph- Phil- I wasn’t doing anything- we just made Tubbo president and we.. we uhm- elected tubbo president- and we-'' Wil went on and on about what had just happened, trying to suppress the discomfort he felt from the loud noise coming from all directions of his mind. Looking back again, he saw his fathers face. He had a concerned look on his face, and he looked around at the barely legible scribbled song on the walls. The scruffs of his long hair looked messier than usual and his short peach-fuzzy beard looked untaken care of and somehow, nervous. 

“Phil-” 

“Mhm.” He walked to the side of the cave, Wilbur's eyes locked on him. He glided his fingers across the lyrics ‘I heard there was a special place.’ They followed it until the end where it says ‘fuck e-ret.’ “Y-you said earlier you were in L’manburg.” His blue eyes looked glossier than normal. Perhaps they were from worry, or tears. Why would Phil cry? The fighting would finally end. 

“The- this is L’manb-” he stopped, feeling like something stopped him from finishing the sentence. Nothing had, really. Only he did. “Okay- I will- admit. Do you know what this button is?” It seemed like the button knew when Wil spoke about it. The piercing tick became louder than almost anything he had ever heard. 

“Uh huh. I do.” Phil’s answers sounded skeptical and slow, sinking farther and farther into Wil’s heart.

“H- have you heard th-the song on the walls before? Have you heard the song?” He looked around, his eyes scattering in every direction. “I was saying- I made this big point and it me- it was poignant and it was the- its the- there was a special place.” He put a large emphasis on the ‘was,’ hoping, begging Phil would understand. “But there's- it's not there anymore you know, it’s not-” He took in another deep breath.

“It is there.” His voice felt like poison and sizzled into Wil’s brain. He didn’t understand- He just didn’t. “You’ve just won it back Wil-” He was cut off once he spoke.

“PHIL I WAS SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THE BUTTON PHIL. I’VE BEEN- I’VE BEEN HERE- LIKE SEVEN OR EIGHT TIMES I HAVE BEEN HERE. SEVEN OR EIGHT TIMES.” Phil could just tell his son was in pain, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Wilbur’s voice exasperated and so terribly languishing. 

“Phil- Phil I’ve been here so many times.” He heard muffled sounds of fireworks and gunshots above them. “They’re fighting. They’re fighting.” Wil was so sick of the fighting, and the agony, and the stress. He wanted it all gone. He needed it to. He blamed himself for it, really. If only he hadn’t ever made this country. Maybe then he’d be at peace right now. Maybe his friends wouldn’t be fighting right now. 

“And you want to blow it all up?” It was really unclear to Wilbur what Phil’s intentions were. To stop him? To help his son before he ruins people’s lives? Well, unfortunately for him, Wil’s already hurt too much. Done too much. This country should never have existed. Never. All it brought was grief.

“I do. I think- I’m-” Another deep breath. He was so sick of being interrupted every single time he came to press this stupid wooden button.

“You worked so hard to get this land back. So hard” Worry burdened Phil’s voice, seeming to envelop the cave in some sort of cold, but also warm cloud of feelings.

“I don’t even know if it works anymore Phil,” Wilbur stared at his hands, then back up at Phil. “I could press it, and it might-” He stared at him as if he had just asked him if he should go to the grocery store, or something normal. But this was far from normal.

“You really wanna do that, you really wanna risk-” He burst out into a nervous laugh in the middle of his words. “There is a lot of tnt potentially connected to that button.” His voice seemed off, less worry and more, well, there’s no real way to describe it.

“Phil.. There was a saying.” Wilbur’s hand reached to the button once again, the ticking becoming so draining it was a struggle even to look back at his father. “There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once a part of L’manburg. A traitor I don’t know if you’ve heard about. He had a saying, Phil.” 

  
  


“It was never meant to be.” 

  
  


Right at that moment, memories flashed past wilbur’s mind. Tommy and him making drugs in his old van, the birth of Fundy, the walls being built. Eret betraying them. The end of the first war, and Tommy sacrificing his disks for their country. Peace for a small while, until he decides to have an election. Then it all went downhill. Schlatt won, that sick, twisted son of a bitch. He kicked them out, ruining the country that once was known for its friendship and care for each citizen. It was all okay before then, there was no wretchedness there. All that was there was a family. Maybe not biological, but it was a family. 

Wilbur brought up his hand to salute, feeling a rush of relief. All those memories fluttered away like little butterflies flying away into a beautiful meadow. It was finally over. The ticking noise that had troubled him for so long was now silent. All he heard was the distant cries of his friends. He looked out into the rubble, water from the fountain washing down into the cave that was still intact. Wil felt a bit of water splash onto his face. He carefully stepped out into the opening that had been so perfectly blown up, and let his arms fly out into the air. 

“MY L’MANBURG, PHIL. MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED.” He stepped down into the large crater that he had created. “IF I CAN’T HAVE L’MANBURG, NO ONE CAN HAVE- NO ONE CAN HAVE THIS PHIL.” His voice felt hoarse but at the same time he felt a large sense of comfort, knowing this was all gone. He had finally been able to let go. No more wars. No more anything. He gazed up at his friends, all staring back at him in fear. Niki, Tubbo, Tommy, Fundy, all of them. All of them were there. He realized something he hadn’t thought about before. 

His friends would all hate him. They would want him dead, and he had it well deserved. There was really no reason he should be alive right then and there. He had finally gotten rid of that bloody country of his. He wouldn’t exist anymore once he was dead, right? No more of Wilbur would mean no more of his torment. Everyone hated him, he just blew up what they had just taken back. If his country is gone, why shouldn’t he be gone as well? His eyes lit up for a moment as he remembered his diamond sword that was hooked onto his back. 

“Phil. Phil, kill me. Kill me. PHIL!” His voice grew more urgent by the second. He took his sword out of the cover and handed it to Phil, seeing his fathers hand twitch by the sight of the blade. Reluctantly, with Wil basically shoving it onto him, he took it. 

Phil had no idea how to feel. This man- he had just blown up a country. He should be angry. He should kill him, but… no. He looked up at his son’s creamy brown eyes and his stressed look. His eyebrows looked so squished together, it was unnatural. He had this crazy grin and he didn’t look right. Phil felt like such a disappointment. Why? Why did he decide to raise a son? He wasn’t cut out for it. It was obvious, from what had just happened now. “Wil- I-”

“Stab me with the sword. Murder me. Murder me. Killza. Killza. Killza. Do it. Kill me. Do it Phil, murder me.” His words repeating sounded almost like an echo that a child would try to make in a large room. Philza looked over at Wil’s friends. They looked defeated, and-

“LOOK. They all want you to. Do it Phil. Kill me.” Wilbur became impatient.

“You’re my son- I-” 

“PHIL KILL ME.”

“No matter what I cant- I cant- Wil-”

  
  


“PHIL. THIS ISNT- LOOK. LOOK. HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS AND IT'S GONE. Do it. Do it.” Phil couldn’t take it anymore. The fearful looks from Niki, Wilbur’s voice seeping into his brain like venom, everything. It was so overwhelming. His sweet Wil. He remembered when Wil was just a young boy. He would always walk out to the garden and sniff the flowers. He remembered one time, now this was a funny story, he slipped and fell into a large bed of daisies and was upset about it for a long while. He felt terribly sad about trampling the flowers, His son. The little boy who used to cry over seeing a cat and not being able to take it home.

The same man who once wore beanies that were too big for him. The same little boy just exploded a whole country. He stared down at the blue, shiny blade and stabbed Wilbur. It went through his chest, puncturing Phil mentally, and Wil physically. Almost in a flash he pulled the sword out of his son’s body, dropping it and grabbing him, seeing his manic eyes turn into expressionless orbs. 

“I’m sorry son- I- I couldn’t save you.” Phil set the lifeless body onto the rocks and picked a small flower that somehow, some way still survived the explosion. He placed it onto his bloody chest and felt a tear fall down his cheek. He was now a murderer, along with a terrible father. His cloak had splotches of blood, an especially large one was on his right sleeve which was the arm that was used to kill him.


End file.
